


Bananas Foster

by iloveyoudie



Series: Morseverse Prompt Fills [16]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Friendship, Gen, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Pub Quiz Team, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: Morse thought he may have been finished after having prepared all of that for 4 people, but he’d learned very quickly after moving in with him that Strange never seemed to tire of cooking.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Jim Strange, Jim Strange & Everyone
Series: Morseverse Prompt Fills [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1115055
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Bananas Foster

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr prompt fill - Jim Strange : Fire, flames, or excessive heat.
> 
> Honest to god when I saw fire and jim strange, the first thing I thought of was flambé.  
> This may not have been the original intention behind the request lol

Jim Strange flung a hand towel over his shoulder as he cleared the plates from the table. He’d already made a meal, pasta in a cream sauce with roasted asparagus and seared chicken breasts. Morse thought Jim may have been finished after having prepared all of that for 4 people, but he’d learned very quickly after moving in with him that Strange never seemed to tire of cooking. 

When the man could find a reason to cook, he did. He didn’t use packaged foods or instant mixes. He rarely even went in for quick breakfasts, no cereals or oats or quick slices of toast. It was eggs and bacon. Grilled tomato. Beans. Only then would the toast be allowed. Also juice. 

Christ, if he could have squeezed the oranges himself he probably would have. 

The occasion for tonight’s meal was rather simple, their pub quiz team had won it’s fifth week in a row and Jim wanted to celebrate. Shirley and Max brought the booze. Morse brought his very personable self. Jim provided everything else. 

“And dessert,” He said as he set the last dish in the sink, “Is Bananas Foster. Just have to whip it up.” 

“I’ve never had Bananas Foster,” said Shirley excitedly. 

“You, Morse?” Max asked. 

“No,” Morse shrugged. He hated admitting his many cultural shortcomings but to pretend about a dessert seemed foolish. 

Jim chuckled deep, “Oh, well, you are in for a treat matey.” 

Strange moved back to the kitchen as they all looked on, at least until Max stood up and joined him. Morse had never seen them cook together and as Max undid his cufflinks to roll up his sleeves, matching Jim’s shirtsleeve and bare forearmed look, Shirley was enticed enough to get her out of her seat and hover nearby to observe. 

Morse, never one to join in _too_ quickly, stayed where he was. 

Jim moved to the stove, asking for a sauce pan which Shirley handed to him. Max moved to the fruit bowl where he grabbed four bananas which he took to the cutting board. Somehow the doctor knew exactly what to do and Morse wondered if cooks had some sort of extrasensory perception that he wasn’t aware of. 

“Easiest thing in the world really,” Jim said aloud. He glanced back at Morse, flashed him a grin, and said, “Even Morse could do it.” 

Morse clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes and as soon as Jim’s back was turned finally gave in to his own curiosity and stood up. He hovered a bit by Max’s elbow as the doctor cut the ends from the bananas, peel still on, and then cut them in quarters. 

“Little butter in the pan,” Jim always talked when he cooked. Morse was positive now that from living with him he must have absorbed some of the information. He could make a roux now, that was certain, and he’d done some steak under the broiler. Even something simple as jacket potatoes had been improved upon knowing Jim Strange. He’d suffered a lecture on the proper way to make bacon both crispy and chewy and Jim had even saved him from a grease fire of his own making by bursting in with a box of baking soda and smothering the pot with a metal baking tray. 

“When it’s melted you throw in the brown sugar.” 

“Sugar and butter, where could you go wrong?” Shirley grinned at Morse behind the cooks’ backs. 

Max was done with the bananas. He’d tossed their peels and put them in reach of Jim before going into the cabinet for a bottle of spiced rum. 

Morse had also never, before living with Jim Strange, realized how much alcohol went into cooking. A shame it all cooked out… 

Max then produced 4 glasses and poured them each a shot of rum, “You know I once was called in to a slip-and-fall in a manufacturing plant. Trauma and a puncture to the occipital bone when the man slipped on a spill of imitation butter and cracked himself on a piece of machinery. Did you know artificial butter smells a bit like.. well.. vomit.” 

Everyone groaned. 

“Max!” 

“Oi, Doc.” 

“Max, _please._ ” 

Max’s eyebrows bobbed and he handed a shot to each of them, “Rough crowd.” 

Morse shook his head and lifted his glass, “Cheers.” 

They all tossed them back with varying degrees of hissing and ‘ahhs!’ as the alcohol burned down their throats. . 

“Now add the bananas-” Jim choked out lightly after his shot of rum, “Just about thirty seconds each side.” 

Morse watched him add the bananas flat side down and the bubbling brown butter-sugar syrup seeming to stay in place as the pan swirled in Jim’s hand with skill. Morse envied such a level of aptitude in something that was merely a hobby. 

“Doc-” Jim gestured and again with near preternatural instinct, he was provided another shot of rum from Max who didn’t even ask what he needed. It was dumped into the pan with everything else, “Oh. I’ve got some banana liquor. Behind the peach schnapps. Morse would you-”  


Morse, not expecting to be called upon, blinked before he moved to fish about in the cabinet and produce a small fluted sort of bottle with an obnoxious yellow hue. 

Jim put a bit of that in as well. 

“Now’s the fun part.. Well. One of the fun parts,” Jim shook his arms a bit as if he were loosening up for a work out, and they all took a step back out of caution. With a deft little tilt, the syrup was moved to the very edge of the pan, near enough to spill but never bubbling over, and suddenly the entirety of the concoction lit aflame from the gas range underneath. 

Shirley gasped. Max clapped. Morse’s eyes just got wide. 

Before Jim Strange, he’d also never known so many dishes could be set on fire. He knew about the christmas pudding of course, but Strange was fond of flambees and liquors and Morse had nearly tossed a glass of water on him once when his saucepan flared up and it caught him completely off guard. 

“Doc, can you get the ice cream?” 

“I’ll get the dishes..” Shirley said helpfully. 

“C’mere Morse,” Jim said again, “Grab the cinnamon?” 

He did so, offering it out. 

“Oh no, you add it. Go on. A bit in your hand, there ya go,” Jim moved aside from the flaming pan, the flames calmly licking over the bananas as the alcohol burnt out, “Just throw it in.” 

“Just throw it?” Morse wasn’t even sure if he had enough. 

“Go on, before the fire’s out.” 

So he did. The cinnamon flashed into the pan and the flames flared up and the cinnamon ignited into sparks in the air that danced and fizzled out quickly. Morse found himself smiling in spite of himself. It was rather pretty. 

“Oh me!” Shirley tapped some cinnamon into her hand. 

“Yeah, quick now!” Jim moved aside for her and she threw more in. There was a bigger surge of flame and more sparkles in the air. Like embers over a campfire. Sparklers. 

“Kitchen magic,” Max leaned in to Morse to say with a smile. 

And with that the flames died down and the fire burned away and the entertaining bits of the process had ended. In moments they were all sitting with bowls of carmelized bananas and vanilla ice cream. There was the edge of rum without the burn. The sugar. The cinnamon. Sweetness and a bit of edge and a mellow sort of spiced warmth. 

“Well,” Jim hadn’t touched his own. He never did. Not until everyone else had taken at least one taste. Not until everyone had also told him what they thought of it. 

“Delicious,” Max said. 

“MMMhmmm!” Shirley said through a full mouth. 

Morse watched them all carefully, Shirley’s enthusiasm and Max’s refined tastes. Jim was looking at him now, waiting for his input, him especially. He knew it. Jim always seemed to want to impress him. To please him. He knew it was nothing more than the man's natural kindness and his desire to bring a little light into people’s lives… even Morse’s difficult one. 

“It’s good,” Morse said, and even though it was hardly the most ringing endorsement, it made Jim smile, “Very good.” 

“That’s as good as it gets from Morse, I think,” Max smirked. 

And Strange dipped his head bashfully over his own dish, only able to take the compliments to a point before he caught an edge of shyness. As he finally dipped into his own and made a sound of pleasure, Morse had his second bite. 

And third. 

It wasn’t just good, it was amazing, and it wasn’t even just the food. It was the company and the care. It was everything. It was bone warming and a bit saucy and surprisingly more complex than the few ingredients that went into it’s making. It didn’t need to be overly fancy to get all the attention in the room, and it deserved it. 

Rather like Jim himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Challenging myself to just sit down, write something fast, minimal editing.  
> I was interrupted after the first draft (and had to go out) but I sat right back down and roughly polished it as soon as I got home so I'm not going to question it more deeply. 
> 
> Happy with myself for doing it cause I've been having a rough time (writing wise) over the holiday break :D
> 
> Also yes, artificial butter in it's concentrated form (as used by major bakeries) does smell that bad. It also gets on your shoes and clings and if you track it around you will just make everything stink. .. just random nonsense information.


End file.
